Hotfoot Hobson
by Ann3
Summary: Erica discovers Gary's other deep, dark secret. Please R&R ! Thanks !


HOTFOOT HOBSON Written by Ann Rivers 

Rating:  G

Spoilers:  Lt Hobson, USN, although the story takes places immediately after Up Chuck

Summary:  Erica discovers Gary's other deep dark secret…

Disclaimer: Early Edition and its characters all belong to Columbia Tristar.

I'm just borrowing them for a little while for a quick trip to fanfic land.

Please let me know if the trip was worth it, by dropping a line to 

It had been an incredible week, even by his far from normal standards.

A week where his best friend had returned, caused chaos and mayhem as only he could,

to the point of ruining years of friendship.

Then suddenly lives rather than friendships had come under threat. Loyalty had prevailed over the bitterness of betrayal. And thanks to a heady combination of sheer desperation,

a trick he'd seen in an old Bond movie and Patrick's unquestioning eagerness to please, Chuck's runaway limo had come to a safe if rather shaky halt on the freeway.

As a relieved and penitent Chuck had said, he just couldn't help himself. He'd saved the day.

Again.

Gary Hobson, ex reluctant stockbroker turned occasionally reluctant hero.

Or, as Chuck had teasingly and gratefully re-christened him, Chicago's answer to Clark Kent.

With Leonard safe in the hands of Chicago's finest, the bridge rebuilding had continued –

Chuck, needless to say, taking the lead on a far more relaxed drive back to McGinty's.

"Hey Gar, now I know what to get you for Christmas !" Defending himself as best he could,

Chuck had then beamed wickedly at his paper-wielding friend. "Forget leather jackets –

what you need is a cape… a really nice bright red cape, with maybe some boxers to match…"

Ignoring the splutters of laughter from Marissa and her whispered explanation to Patrick,

Gary had glared at him. Or at least tried to, as his own amusement had threatened to betray him.

"You do…" he said softly, waving the paper in front of his face to make sure Chuck got the point,

"And you'll be spending the whole of New Year in traction…"

He'd tried to look and sound menacing. Unfortunately he just didn't have the eyes for it.

Chuck's wounded look and the continued hysterics from the front of the car didn't exactly help.

From a stalemate of pointed glares, stifled grins had given way to free and hearty laughter,

in simple relief that the feud between them was over.

From then on, and for the rest of the week, it had been as if Chuck had never gone away.

Slipping back easily into their friendship, and in between Gary's daily heroics,

they'd screamed themselves hoarse watching the Bears trounce the Redskins.

Gone sightseeing down the river ( a first for both of them), even taken Henry up the Sears Tower.

The only downside came each morning at 6.30, when Chuck and the cat conspired to give Gary as loud and prolonged a wake up call as they could before a sleepily flung pillow could stop them.

Last night, to the delight of the older regulars, Chuck had taken a nostalgic stint behind the bar.

Now though, as Gary stood alone in a dark and deserted McGinty's, that happy night of noise and laughter already seemed like a long time ago.

Checking once more that the front door was securely locked, he then glanced out of the window –

his reflected face subdued in rain spattered glass.

The Windy City was living up to its name. The drizzle that had been falling all day had turned into an all out storm, with rain now being lashed along in squalls of showers.

As one who hated flying at the best of times, Gary didn't envy Chuck his flight back to Los Angeles in such lousy weather.

Still, if he'd learned anything from Chuck Fishman, it was his uncanny knack of coming out of the worst mess smelling of roses. Knowing Chuck, he probably wouldn't even notice the turbulence. No, he probably had his own stewardess by now, tending adoringly to his every need,

while everyone else fought over the sickbags.

Smiling fondly at the thought, he gave the door one last shake before heading for his next task –

stacking the tables and chairs before he turned in for the night.

It had been a busy day – his final good deed of rescuing an over adventurous toddler from a tree resulting in a frantic dash to the airport for Chuck's flight back to LA.

Yet strangely he didn't feel as tired as he usually did. If anything, the energy level which by now would barely see him up the stairs and into bed now seemed to take on a new lease of life.

Which, given the number of tables and chairs in the restaurant, was really just as well.

It was a fairly strenuous task, though, even for Gary's new found energy. A tedious one, too.

And one which, needless to say, Chuck had always managed to find an excuse to avoid.

Nibbling from a stray pretzel basket that Patrick had somehow missed, Gary hoisted the first set of upturned chairs onto their table – his thoughts wandering back, inevitably, to his airborne friend.

True, Chuck Fishman could try the patience of a whole legion of saints, let alone one.

He attracted trouble like a magnet, could give the slickest of con men a fair run for their money –

and Gary shuddered to think what else might be lurking beneath the floorboards.

But Chuck had always been there when he'd needed him. He'd been the only friend who'd stood

by him after Marcia threw him out, guiding him through the shock and deep pain of his divorce.

Given him a roof over his head when the Blackstone had been razed to join the rest of his

seemingly ruined life.

And for that, Gary Hobson would always be grateful.

Not only that, but Chuck had always known how to get him to loosen up and enjoy himself.

Earlier that week Chuck had treated him to Bob Newhart's live show at the Second City –

quietly satisfied to note that his frequently uptight friend spent the entire show crying with laughter.

For the first time in too many months, Gary had really relaxed - able to enjoy and join in the simple pleasures in life which the pressure of The Paper so often denied him.

A distant wail of sirens startled him out of his idle thoughts, the darkness and quiet around him reminding him once more that Chuck was gone.

Not that he'd ever admit to it, of course – Chuck would never let him forget it if he did –

but things were _awful _quiet without him.

Gary sighed, absently reflecting that unless he really was a warlock (cringing at the memory)

those tables and chairs weren't going to stack themselves.

On the upside, he'd discovered one thing. Pretzels made pretty addictive comfort food.

A firm believer that comfort eating was fine so long as you burned up the resulting calories,

Gary moved round the tables in a steady succession of lifting, nibbling, turning and hoisting.

Perhaps it was the remnants of Chuck's infectious high spirits from that past week that did it.

Or maybe it was the pretzels. But suddenly Gary realised what he – or rather his legs – were doing.

Dancing. For the first time since his marriage broke up, he was _dancing_.

Nothing that would get Ricky Martin too worried, and probably not the latest night club craze.

But good enough to have cut a dash at that naval base dinner – if he'd had the chance.

Surprise then gave way to a slow grin as he remembered Erica's doubts over his dancing talents. Oh, if Erica could see him now…

The smile promptly vanished as Gary glanced furtively around him. Then again, maybe not.

She thought he was nuts enough as it was, without finding him sashaying round his bar.

Then again, it was _his_ bar. There was no one around to witness this momentous sight.

And all the doors were safely locked…

No, he thought, grinning at the sheer lunacy of it, why shouldn't he brush up on his hoofing skills ? If nothing else, it would shake him out of these post-Chuck blues.

Of course, he could sashay a lot better with some decent music. Something with a real rocking beat.

The grin grew wider as Gary foot jived over to the CD rack behind the bar. He knew just the thing.

Except he wasn't alone. Unnoticed by the Swayze wannabe, the back office light was still on…

She'd stayed out of choice rather than necessity, on a self assigned task which, in hindsight,

could easily have waited till morning.

But with Henry sleeping over at a school friend's house and so no reason to rush home,

tonight seemed as good as any to finish tidying up the financial mess which Chuck had left behind.

For Gary's sake, she'd kept her annoyance to herself – after all, he'd not been to blame for it.

And when she'd seen the shock on his face – well, at least that shock had been genuine.

But then much of that anger had been dispelled by Gary's increasingly awkward attempts to apologise for his deviant friend.

If truth be told, he'd won her over at the first try, but she'd let him continue anyway –

if only for the fun of seeing him get so adorably tongue tied.

Besides she'd always enjoyed figure work – which, given the full extent of Chuck's 'filing system' was really just as well.

One more ledger, then her first and hopefully last experience with Chuck Fishman would be over.

Grateful to take a break, Erica stretched back in her chair, easing the kinks in her shoulders –

her eyes coming to rest on the photo which took pride of place on Gary's desk.

It was of Gary and Chuck in their partnership days, arms around each other's shoulders,

laughing happily for the camera.

Marissa had already tried to explain this oddest of partnerships in her gently wise way.

Yet even having experienced it herself, Erica still couldn't help but wonder how two people of such totally different character and attitude to life could be such good friends, let alone business partners.

They were chalk and cheese. Deviant and dependable. Brash and… well, yes, boring.

A modern day Laurel and Hardy…

Smiling at that last thought, Erica sighed while slowly tracing her fingers across Gary's face – wishing she had the nerve to do it for real.

"Come on, Erica, get a grip…" she quietly chastised herself. "Yes, he's a great looking guy,

and he saved your life with getting you a job. But you're here to work, not ogle the management…"

And yet… no, there was something between them – wasn't there ? Not just friendship, either,

but a real mutual sense of being so right for each other.

Erica felt sure that there was. She just wasn't entirely sure that Gary felt the same way.

"Who are you, Gary Hobson…?" she sighed, lost now in both thought and those depthless eyes.

"How do I get the chance to really get to know you…?"

That chance was coming – sooner and noisier than she'd expected.

At first Erica thought she was imagining things as the unmistakable lead into Gimme Some Lovin'

filtered through from the main restaurant. But then the volume doubled in a chorus of trumpets,

joined by an exhilarated whoop – one which Erica knew for sure wasn't on the original soundtrack.

For a moment she just sat and listened, not sure what to do. Either Gary was still clearing up or they were being cleared out by Chicago's noisiest, not to mention cheeriest burglars.

Praying it was the former, armed with a rolling pin in case it wasn't, Erica padded out of the office.

Opening the door that led into the main restaurant, she glanced nervously into the dimness beyond –

and felt her mouth drop open in surprise.

The good news was they weren't being robbed. The bad news was she'd clearly overdone the coffee.

How else could she explain the sight of Gary Hobson jiving happily around the tables,

stacking chairs to the rousing strains of the Spencer Davis Group ?

And where was her camera ? The same place cameras always are for that once in a lifetime shot.

At home.

Still, memories lasted a lifetime too. And this one was an absolute doozie.

She'd teased him about his dancing before, amused and perhaps a little envious that he'd had a date - her smile widening now at the memory of his plaintively indignant response.

And now here he was – proving that he was, indeed, a pretty good dancer.

In the world of the Blues Brothers, the Spencer Davis Group had given way to Ray Charles.

And never had a tail feather been more fetchingly - not to mention sexily - shaken.

Jailhouse Rock was up next. Good old rock 'n' roll, complete with the recommended wooden chair - spun and circled in a perfect foot jive before being stacked with the same high spirits.

He was thoroughly enjoying himself. So was she, though for slightly different reasons.

Caught up in the spirit of things, she started to clap and cheer to the song's exuberant rhythm.

Suddenly aware that he had an audience, a startled Gary spun around to face her.

Unfortunately his momentum continued to carry him backwards, and he lost his balance –

the confident grace of a few moments ago abruptly lost in a flail of arms of legs before he fell,

narrowly avoiding the edge of the bar as he went down in a worryingly sprawled heap.

Horrified that he'd been hurt, Erica rushed towards him – breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief to see

that he was already if somewhat gingerly climbing back onto his feet.

By the time she reached him he was more or less upright again, shaken but thankfully unhurt.

As they faced each other it was a dead heat as to who looked the most startled and awkward,

and at any other time Erica would have loved to tease him over the priceless look on his face.

Instead, mortified, she radiated concern.

"Oh Gary, I'm so sorry, are… are you okay…?" she said at last, not sure how he was going to react.

"I  - I just assumed you knew I was still here, and I guess I got carried away with the music and… I'm really sorry, Gary… are you sure you're okay…?"

The words trailed away, in nervous uncertainty at his continued, wide eyed silence.

She knew from what had happened with Chuck that a silent Gary Hobson was _not_ a good sign.

Then his eyes changed – not in the anger that she had dreaded but rather in acute embarrassment,

as if she'd found him with his hand in the cookie jar.

When the tongue tied reply finally came, it was all Erica could do to keep from laughing.

"No, I'm… I - I mean, I'm fine and… well, I didn't know you were there watching me, and…

and you took me by surprise, see, and…" Tongue tied explanations then gave way to the familiar feeling that he wasn't being taken entirely seriously - resulting in his usual slightly peeved response.

"Hey, what's so funny…?"

Trying hard to look penitent, Erica took one glance at the expression on Gary's face and that was it. Penitence crumbled into a helpless fit of giggles.

"Oh Gary, I'm sorry…" she said at last – still not entirely sure of how far she dared push him.

"It's just that… well, you always get so embarrassed and defensive when you don't need to be…"

Encouraged by the curiosity in his eyes, she then smiled back at him and shrugged her shoulders.

"I mean… well, you always seem to be rushing around, and I know with running this place that… well, you don't get many chances to enjoy yourself, so why shouldn't you let your hair down…?"

Confident enough now to gently tease him, she grinned. "Besides, you're a great dancer…"

Caught completely off guard at her boldness, Gary stared at her in once more puzzled surprise.

Then he smiled – that shy, awkward smile that never failed to melt her heart. His eyes twinkled.

"Now, you see, that's funny…" he sighed, laying on the irony with a very mischievous trowel.

"You know, just a little while back someone who looked and sounded a whole lot like you reckoned

I wasn't the dancing type…"

Not to be outdone, Erica giggled before she joined in his laughter and playfully slapped his chest –

as surprised as he was that, when her hand remained there, Gary made no attempt to remove it.

For several moments they stood, only vaguely aware of the now faded music in the background.

Not that Erica minded how intently he now stared at her. She could spend all day in those eyes,

no matter how startled they were. And was she imagining it, or was there something else ?

Relief, perhaps, that after weeks of skirting the issue, one of them had finally made the first move.

He was blushing too – fear that she was making that move just a little too quickly now prompting Erica to take her hand away from him while offering him a slightly awkward smile.

"I stand happily corrected…" she said at last, hoping her next words wouldn't embarrass him more.

"Though I would have taken you more for a country fan rather than R and B…"

Gary blinked, surprised at her insight. Not even Marcia had been able to read him this easily.

"Well, normally I am… I mean, where I come from, it would be hard not to be…" he replied, glancing towards the empty CD case with a fondly nostalgic smile before he went on to explain.

"No, it was through rooming with Chuck at college that he got me interested in… well, all sorts…

I mean, if we didn't have the Blues Brothers soundtrack on at least some point during the day…

well, let's just say he'd be real cranky during our lectures. So that got me into rhythm and blues.

And with Chuck being such a movie buff… well, Elvis went the same way as Jake and Elwood.

Watch the movie enough times and… well, some of it's bound to rub off on you…"

Erica nodded, smiling at the thought of the shy and studious Gary in his college days –

no doubt even more shy and studious then, with the slick and streetwise Chuck as his room mate.

A pairing which, when they had met for the first time, must have horrified both of them –

but one which, in fact, had complemented their differences perfectly.

Now she was beginning to understand the extraordinary friendship that had developed between them.

Why that friendship had survived – strengthened, if anything, by the events of the previous week.

Now Chuck was gone. No wonder Gary had been so subdued since he returned from the airport.

"You go back a long way…" she said gently, a little guilty that she hadn't appreciated this before.

Gary nodded, lost in his own thoughts of those happy, carefree times; reminded once more of how much had changed since then.

"Yes we do…" he said softly, subdued for a moment before he smiled sheepishly back at her.

"And believe me, when I found out about those discarded tax receipts and that tape and all…

well, not for the first time since we've known each other, I could cheerfully have strangled him…"

Relieved to see him smiling again, Erica laughed.

"Me too – for that first part, anyway…" she replied, studying him with amused, appraising eyes.

"You, though… no, you don't seem the strangling type…"  

The response was all she had hoped for – a look of polite disbelief, followed by delighted laughter.

"Oh yeah – as if you'd know…" he shot back, the laughter fading as a sudden thought struck him.

"Look, about those ledgers and till receipts…"

"All done…" Erica smiled, holding up her hand to forestall the inevitable tongue tied apology.

"And before you say anything, no I didn't mind. I said I'd do it… that's why I was still here…"

_Chuck's not so bad after all_… she mused – wisely keeping that thought very much to herself.

_If not for him, I'd have missed all this_…!

"Still here… right…" Gary echoed, thrown still more by a further thought. "But… I – I mean,

what about Henry…? I mean, it's getting real late, and…"

"He's staying at a friend's tonight… which made it the perfect night for me to stay late here…"

Erica explained – figuring it best to cut in now before Gary went into all out panic mode.

"He is…?" Gary frowned, vaguely remembering that Erica _had _already told him. Several times.

He sighed, all too aware of the indulging smile on Erica's face and warmth reddening his own.

No, it was no good. Hectic lifestyle or not, he was going to have to start writing things down –

he'd save himself a lot of embarrassment that way…

Understandably keen to change the subject, he then treated her to his most distracting smile.

"Only if I'd known you were still here, then I could have… well, at least treated you to dinner as…

well, you know, as a thank you for sorting out those receipts and all…"

Duly distracted, now it was Erica's turn to stare, astonished at such uncharacteristic boldness.

Astonished too that she'd learned more about him in those last five minutes than in the entire time

since they'd first met. Recovering herself, and knowing this was too good a chance to miss,

she met his now slightly nervous look with a bright, delighted smile.

"Make it a dinner and dance and you've got yourself a deal…" she agreed, the smile widening to a grin as she looped her arm through his. "But for now I'd settle for the dance…"

Thrown for a complete loop, Gary started to reply then glanced uncertainly at the CD player –

not entirely sure that the Blues Brothers was the most appropriate of choices.

Erica's thoughts seemed to have followed a similar path, since she too looked a tad uncertain.

"Something a little slower…?" she asked softly, following him to a promisingly laden CD rack.

"Good idea…" Gary agreed, grinning mischievously over his shoulder while he chose an alternative.

"Besides I'm not as young as I was then. After all that jigging and jiving, I need to slow it down…!"

Erica knew she was asking for trouble with what she was about to say but… oh, it would be worth it.

"Got any opera…?" she asked – bright eyed innocence dissolving into helpless laughter as Gary glanced back at her with a look of pure, horrified disdain.

"Oh, _please_…!" he muttered, although he too was laughing as he returned to his search.

Choice made, he turned back to a still chuckling Erica and gallantly held out his arm. "Shall we…?"

She didn't need to be asked again. Hell, she'd barely been able to wait for him to ask once.

The choice of music was perfect – as she'd known it would be. A compilation of rock and country, lively enough to sway and swing to, but with plenty of chances for them to get slow and snug.

By the time Cher finished walking in Memphis, Erica's head was resting snugly on Gary's shoulder.

Both of them had their eyes closed, a smile of pure if slightly drowsy pleasure twinned on their faces.

And from a frame behind the bar, the face of Chuck Fishman beamed in happy approval.


End file.
